


careful follow my instruction (and i will show you self destruction)

by elliotfromseattle



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, but also it's very fun, don't ask how those two make sense in combination with each other just read the fic and find out, it's about jaylen dealing with trauma okay, lots of swears in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliotfromseattle/pseuds/elliotfromseattle
Summary: Jaylen Hotdogfingers sat alone in the dark. She'd barely managed to wish Percy a good night and close her bedroom door before she collapsed on the floor, hands clawing at opposite triceps as she shook uncontrollably, using all her strength to keep her sobs quiet enough to not attract attention from her teammates, because with attention came concern and with concern came care and and andI don't deserve this.I don't deserve this.I don't deserve this.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	careful follow my instruction (and i will show you self destruction)

The days were a blur. 

Morning practice bled into the afternoon game bled into evening dates over coffee, tea, dumplings, board games, concerts, every sort of pasttime to not just occupy the time, but occupy it together. They'd all laughed. They'd all smiled. Percival had kissed her on the cheek in front of the whole team and she couldn't help but to grin and blush and grab her girlfriend around the waist and pull her in tight, so tight, keeping her close and praying that she wouldn't slip through her fingers. 

But the nights?

The nights dragged on forever.

Jaylen Hotdogfingers sat alone in the dark. She'd barely managed to wish Percy a good night and close her bedroom door before she collapsed on the floor, hands clawing at opposite triceps as she shook uncontrollably, using all her strength to keep her sobs quiet enough to not attract attention from her teammates, because with attention came concern and with concern came care and and and

_I don't deserve this._

_I don't deserve this._

_I don't deserve this._

She'd been consumed by the darkness of death before and she was letting the depths of her mind consume her now, hands moving up to grab opposite sides of her head, arms crossed in a protective stance, blocking her tear-streaked face from sight. Every time she closed her eyes it was a coin flip on whether or not she'd see the orange flames of another player killed or the blue flames that had surrounded her in The Hall. 

She'd thought about breaking her arms. About getting them amputated entirely. Anything to stop her from throwing those pitches. It wouldn't have mattered. Nothing done to herself would have stopped her. She would've pitched with her teeth if she had to. She couldn't stop whatever it was that was causing her to hit players. She once begged an ump to incinerate her, to spare the other team and let her return to The Hall. 

But even if she managed to convince someone to chop her into a million pieces, to destroy her body beyond repair...

Mike's face flashed in her mind. 

Why did he do it? Why would he sacrifice himself for this? For a cursed pitcher with a cursed arm forced to kill others to cover the cost of life? 

It wasn't fucking fair. 

She lived and she died and he just had to give himself up so she could live and kill and die and kill and live again. They'd all called it his redemption arc--as if any of this shit was ever about him. They'd called killing a god her redemption arc--as if any of that shit was ever about her. As if that could ever make up for everything she'd done. As if, as long as she's only killing the bad guy, and not everyone's favorite players, that magically made everything okay. As if one kill could be reason to forgive her for killing ten people, for taking Mike's pitching spot, for bringing Tillman Henderson back to life instead of anyone who actually deserved it. 

Despite everything, she still played Blaseball. 

Jaylen gave up on feeling sorry for her pathetic self and looked at her phone. 3am. She'd been sobbing all night. In less than twelve hours she'd be expected on the field. Everyone was, whether they were playing or not, and her next game wasn't for another four days.

Four days until her next game.

A wicked idea crossed her mind. The pit in her gut told her not to. That it was too risky, too dangerous, that she'd get in trouble, that she'd be hurting both herself and everyone around her if she did it. She checked her pulse. 

_Fuck it. All I ever do is hurt everyone anyway._

Jayden opened up a rideshare app on her phone and, before she could second guess herself, set the destination to the airport. She'd figure out where she was headed on the way. 

***

"where are you"

"Jaylen, I'm seriously worried"

"Honey? Please answer me?"

Jaylen turned off her phone after 6 missed calls and 24 unread texts. 

_Four days until my next game_ , she thought to herself, smiling wryly as she kicked off her shoes and sunk her bare feet into the warm sand. _Good thing time stands still here. Thank god it's Friday._

She'd thought about going to Hades--a part of her loved the irony of moping in a place where you're not allowed to look back. But after Ruby Tuesday... well, she didn't exactly feel welcomed there anymore. Especially not after watching them campaign hard for and win anti-incineration blessing after blessing. It was impossible not to feel the weight of her impact on the league in every step, every movement, every throw of the ball. 

So she--well she supposed she couldn't really call it _settling_ for Hawai'i. It's not settling if you're at a beautiful beach on a sunny day. But there she was, the second destination that came to mind, sweatshirt hood up over her head to hide from tabloid eyes. She watched the waves roll in, always hitting the shore in the same way, to the same place every time. 

Jaylen was bored. 

The adrenaline of running away had worn off. She was hot, and her black jeans and hoodie were beginning to dampen with sweat. She sat directly on the sand, using one hand to shield her eyes from sun2's unyielding brightness. A part of her relished in the discomfort. 

Jaylen laid back, letting the sand get in her hair, and closed her eyes. 

***

She was on the mound. 

The stadium was quiet.

She looked at the opposing team.

Malik Destiny up to bat.

The pitcher must throw the ball. 

The ball bounced off his shoulder. 

The umpire's eyes turned white.

In a flash of light, he was reduced to ash.

She checked her pulse. One beat. 

Theodore Duende up to bat.

The pitcher must throw the ball. 

The ball bounced off his chest. 

The umpire's eyes turned white.

In a flash of light, he was reduced to ash.

She checked her pulse. Two beats. 

Mike Townsend up to bat.

The pitcher must throw the ball. 

He looked at Jaylen, a weak smile on his face. 

no no no no no no no no nO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Her arm moved on its own, ball headed directly for his heart. 

The umpire's eyes turned white.

"I'm taking these."

Jaylen opened her eyes to see a greasy man towering over her, her Dloc Martens in his left hand. She groaned. 

"You're not supposed to announce when you steal someone's shoes, Tillman. Haven't the Thieves taught you that?"

"You think I give a fuck what the Thieves taught me?" Tillman Henderson stuck his tongue out at Jaylen, "They should be grateful I managed to nab the only pair of shoes on this whole island. Fuckin' Fridays play all their games barefoot."

Jaylen rolled her eyes. Just her fucking luck. Of course her island moping getaway would be interrupted by the scourge of the league, the man who was brought back to life in exchange for her second death, Tillman Fucking Henderson. 

She checked her watch. 5:00pm. Same as when she arrived. She sat up and held an arm out.

"My shoes please."

Tillman laughed and held them by the laces over his shoulder. 

"Fuckin' stupid if you think I'm gonna give these back easy. These are the first shoes I've nabbed all season!"

"Shouldn't you be at the cookout?"

"You think that shit's my scene? Think I wanna sit around and eat hot dogs with the team we absolutely creamed? Just absolutely destroyed? Absolutely g--"

"Yes. You won. I get it."

"I'm just saying, the least they could do is be upset about losing. Fuck this good vibes shit."

"So are you gonna steal my shoes or what?"

Tillman blinked, "What're you taaaalking about? I already stole them!" 

"So the Thieves haven't taught you about the most crucial component of a heist yet?"

"Who gives a shit? I have your shoes. What more is there to it?"  
  
"The getaway," Jaylen grinned for the first time today, standing up and reaching to grab the shoes back. Tillman laughed and dangled them over her head. 

"No way, I'm not giving these suckers back. I stole your place on the team and now I'm stealing your shoes bitch!!!!"

"No fair. You have like half a foot on me," But even as she said it, Jaylen felt a familiar combination of exhaustion and apathy overcome her, and she stopped reaching for it. 

"Oh come on, that's no fun," Tillman whined, "At least fight for them. Jeez, why'd I bother coming all this way if you're not gonna at least _try_ to get them back."

"Fuck off Tillman. No one asked you to come here anyway."

"Whoa! Testy! Hey, come with me."

"What."

Tillman turned around, walking away from Jaylen and the shore, her shoes slung back over his shoulder. "I guess you don't want in on this cool heist I'm planning then. Your loss. I'll leave you to… well, whatever the fuck your lame ass is doing here."

Jaylen perked up. It felt like it had been ages since her last shoe heist. Not since… well, not since the last time she died. Not like she had to tell Tillman that anyway. She checked her pulse.

"Gimme my shoes back and I'll come with."  
  
"No way. My shoes now."  
  
"I can't heist without my Dlocs. You want me to come or not?"

And after much bitching and moaning about how long Jaylen takes to put her shoes on, the two were off.

***

The first part of their shoe heist was, apparently, stealing a boat. 

"Tillman, where the fuck are we going," Jaylen whined as Tillman futzed around with the speedboat motor. It was five o'clock on a Friday afternoon and the two were cruising through the Pacific Ocean, Jaylen still bundled up in her all-black getup and Tillman in swim trunks, sunglasses, and a tank top. He'd ditched his Shoe Thieves jersey on the way to the docks ("Did you know that they have like, an infinite supply of these? I lose one every day. Fuckin Crabs used to kick my ass if I lost one. Fuck those guys."). His arms were covered in tattoos--some admittedly sick as hell, most really fucking lame. He insisted on steering, something about his Baltimore pride, but as far as Jaylen could tell, they were just headed in a giant loop around the island they'd been on. 

"Jeez, you complain about everything."

"Are you just taking us to the other side of the island? We could've just walked across. We didn't need to steal a boat for that!"

"Fuckin wimp, you leave your sense of fun in The Hall? Look, I have a plan, okay."

"If I get stranded in the ocean with you I'm going to kill you and then myself."

Tillman tilted his head back and laughed. "Come on Hotdogfingers, you think I can't drive a--"

He stared off toward the shore, eyes growing wide as his hand began to shake on the steering wheel, the boat now cutting through the waves erratically. Jaylen grabbed the side of the boat to steady herself and followed his gaze to the bonfire on the beach. 

The fire wasn't that tall, only a few feet high or so. Surrounding it were people clad in green and yellow--the Fridays and the Shoe Thieves. Jaylen would've recognized a few of their silhouettes if her focus hadn't been locked on to the way the flames flickered, dancing up and down in the warm afternoon air. She was hot. She was so hot. Oh god she was so fucking hot she was burning she was burning she was burning no screams would come out as she felt herself being burned alive as she watched with horror saw Moody Cookbook light up in flames Elijah Bates light up in flames Mclaughlin Scorpler light up in flames she was burning alive she was burning alive why was this happening to her why was this happening to them they were burning alive they were burning alive she checked her pulse and it was gone and she was dead and burning

She heard a splash and the flames were gone and she was alone in a moving speedboat in the Pacific Ocean. 

She checked her pulse. Fast. Too fast. But still there. 

_Deep breaths, in and out_ , she heard Percy's voice coaching her in her head. Oh god, Percy. She must be worried sick. The horrible fact that she'd ditched Percy out of the blue to go steal shoes in Hawai'i with Tillman sunk in as she reached behind the boat to cut the engine and--

Wait.

Where did Tillman go?

She scanned the horizon, making a careful point not to look toward the island, and saw the back of his head bobbing up and down in the water about a hundred yards away. 

_Fucking idiot._

She started up the motor and did her best to turn the boat around, turning it off when she was getting close to where he was treading water out of a fear that she might run him over. He waved at her, smiling away the panic behind his eyes. 

"Tillman! What the fuck?"

"Just, uh, thought I'd go for a swim. Lmao, fucking dumbass over here couldn't even tell that I'm swimming."

Jaylen arched an eyebrow. "Just a casual swim while the boat's still running? Come on, get back in."

She reached an arm out for him. Before she could even register that his expression changed from fear to a conniving grin, he grabbed it and yanked, pulling her into the ocean. 

Salt water filled her mouth as she rose up to the surface, her coughs interspersed with Tillman's cruel laughter. 

_Tillman Henderson you absolute rat bastard._

***

They sat in the boat, both sopping wet. Of course neither of them had a towel or a change of clothes. Jaylen leaned over the side, wringing water out of the bottom of her shirt back into the Pacific. Tillman's bitching about losing his Ray-Blans provided the perfect background noise to tune out as the boat made its way around the island. 

She knew exactly why he'd jumped, of course. She could add two and two, connect his puffy eyes and slight tremble to the bonfire they'd both just been staring at. But he was neither the type to bring it up nor the type to express his feelings if she asked. And alone on a speedboat wasn't exactly the best time to piss someone off, especially if that someone had a history of throwing her in the water. 

"Seriously I got my Flacebook hacked to get a good deal on those Ray-Blans and now I lose them in the fuckin oce--"

"Oh my god shut up, you don't hear me bitching about my ruined Dloc Martins."

"Sucks to fucking suck, Hotdogfingers. Should've just let me steal them and they wouldn't be ruined."

Jaylen rolled her eyes and changed the subject. 

"Where are we going?" 

"Didn't you already complain about this? No one ever tell you it's about the journey not the destination?"  
  
"Really. You're giving me Aesops now. What's next, are the real shoes the friends we make along the way?"

"No that's fuckin' stupid. Who the fuck needs friends when you can get shoes. We're visiting the only three motherfuckers on these islands who might still own any."

***

The first motherfucker's house was on the complete opposite side of the island that they'd started from. Jaylen still didn't understand why they'd had to steal a boat instead of just walking, hiking, stealing bikes, or used literally any other land-based transport to get there. They parked the boat in an empty space on another dock and started walking inland. Jaylen hoped whoever they were visiting had clothes she could steal as well. Her clothes had begun to dry off in the heat of sun2, but she was getting tired of the stiffness of her jeans and overheating from being too dressed. 

It was five o'clock on a Friday afternoon. The pair walked in silence down along the edge of a highway before Tillman led her down a side street into a sparse neighborhood. Jaylen couldn't help but feel like she was getting pranked, somehow. Like a hidden camera crew was going to pop up out of nowhere and tell her she was the butt of the world's joke. As if she didn't already know it. 

"We're here."

Carcinized. That was the only word Jaylen could think of to describe the house. Most houses in this area were built upon tall stilts, in order to avoid flooding and bug infestation. This one rested atop massive crab legs that sunk into the earth. The whole house was painted bright red, and two giant crab claws framed the stairs leading up to the door. Instead of curtains, intricately designed red and blue flags hung inside each window. Jaylen recognized those flags--the new dryad on the Lovers had similar ones hung up. 

"Is this a heist or is it revenge?"

"Can a man not have both?"

Jaylen shrugged and climbed up the steps, walking across the raised porch to scope out the windows. 

"So this is Montgomery Bullock's house?"  
  
"MoCo, yeah. Specifically, this is Herman Walker, age 64, Montgomery County's lucky resident who happened to represent the county on the Crabs the day of the election. Rather than ship a new resident off to Hawai'i every day, they just sent him off. Made him keep the name too. He seems to have taken it well, if the decor is any indication."

"You sure know a lot about him for a guy who claims to hate your former team."  
  
"Yeah well fuck 'em. Gimme a boost I'll go in first."

They were standing under a window that seemed to be unlocked. Jaylen interlaced her fingers together to make a step for Tillman.

"Watch it," She warned as he put a hand on her head to steady himself.

"What's wrong, short king?" And before she could snipe back, he used her hands as a boost to get a handhold on the window, pushing it open and crawling inside. 

_Fucking… 5'8 isn't even short dammit. Ugh. Nothing much else to do but wait. Asshole better unlock the front door and let me in._

As if on cue, Tillman slammed the front door open, one end of what looked like a peppermint stick in his mouth, the other end stuck in half of a lemon. In his free hand, a pair of loafers. 

"What the fuck is that?"  
  
"You never seen shoes before Jay?"

"In your other hand dipshit."

"You never seen a lemon before Jay?"

"Forget I even asked." And Jaylen brushed aside him and entered the house of one Montgomery Bullock. 

The first thing Jaylen noticed about the interior of the house was the giant coat of arms hung up in the living room. The second thing she noticed was the overdose of Baltimore Crabs memorabilia covering each and every square inch of the space. Hats, jerseys, posters, towels, mugs, even a little Parker Parra bobblehead on the coffee table alongside a Baltimore Crabs almanac. 

"Poor guy must really be homesick," Tillman walked up behind Jaylen, sipping on his lemonstick, "Can't relate."

"Dude, is it really okay to steal from this guy?"

"Is now the best time to develop some morals?"

"Look, I just. Damn, this dude loves the Crabs so much."

"Oh yeah, he was an absolute superfan. Was elated to have been picked to join the team for a day."

"Jeez. And then they ascended without him. Dude's gotta be depressed."

"So fuckin what? Not the only bitch they ascended without. Besides, one depressed guy's shoes is another depressed guy's shoes."

"Oh so you're depressed too?"

"I didn't say that. Fuck you."

"Fuck you!"

It was obvious where all the shoes were--he had a few pairs right by the door. 

_Fuck it. All I ever do is hurt everyone anyway._

She knelt down to pick a pair up, before walking deeper into the house, curious about this man's life. The pantry was full, the kitchen was well-stocked, he had those fancy argan oil conditioners in the bathroom. She shrugged and got to making herself a quesadilla. At least the depressed guy was living well. 

After she and Tillman ate ("C'mon, you can't just eat in front of me! I missed the cookout I haven't eaten in HOURS!"), she poked around a bit more, eventually finding a crafts room off to the side, where it seemed like Ol' Monty had been sewing up a shirt for himself with a crab-patterned fabric. 

Jaylen grinned, having just found a solution to her current outfit predicament. 

They left with a pair of shoes in one hand, a lemonstick in the other, a Crabs towel around each of their necks, and Jaylen with a newly cropped hoodie and cuffed jorts. 

***

"Where to next?"

Jaylen had to yell to be heard over the boat's engine. Tillman cranked up the speed this time, steering the two of them toward a different island. She was grateful the boat didn't have speakers--Tillman's terrible taste in music was legendary. 

"Where do you think?" He yelled back, a huge grin on his face. "We got two more bitches with shoes to deal with."

***

They parked the speedboat on a dock and began walking down a beach, tossing the empty husks of their lemons into a trash can. 

"You sure it's safe to just… leave the goods in the boat?" Jaylen asked. "We're not exactly the only people around who might want to steal them."

Tillman didn't even look up from the text he was sending on his phone. 

"Please. You think the lame-ass Shoe Thieves have a boat like we do?"  
  
"They can't just… steal a boat?"  
  
"Why the fuck would they steal a boat?"  
  
"We stole a boat."

"Yeah, but they're all good and shit."

Jaylen opened her mouth to question the logic, but thought better of it. Besides, he had a point--the Shoe Thieves she'd been teammates with probably wouldn't steal a boat. Well. She still wasn't sure about Gunther. 

"How much farther until the next place?"  
  
"Why, you bored already Hotdogfingers? Tired? Fuckin' wimp."

"Shows me right for wanting to know where we're headed." She glanced up at Tillman, his hands folded in a relaxed position behind his head as he sauntered down the beach, "Hey, what's with the tattoos?"

Tillman grinned at her, flexing to show off his mediocre array--a giant crab on his forearm, a Mlinecraft head by his elbow, the word "Pog" on his inner wrist, and on his shoulder, an intricately designed tattoo of dainty flowers surrounded by blue flames. The latter was considerably more brightly colored than the rest, and it stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the game references and symbols of irony. 

"You like what you see? Helps me pull men."

"A tattoo of a shitty drawn version of yourself helps you pull men."

"Course it does, tells people right here I'm a cool guy!" He pointed to the words "cool guy" directly under the cartoon drawing of his face. 

"So it does. What's the deal with the flowers?"

"They're a shitty sports team from Boston. If you ask me, they should just give up the act and be rude. Fucking pansies. Think they're better than us 'cause they're nice."

"I meant the tattoo dipshit."

"What do you mean, what's the deal?"

Tillman's voice gained a nervous edge to it. 

"Looks recent."

"It is."

"What's it mean?"

"Say, Hotdogfingers," He tapped his chin, "What are you doing in Hawai'i anyway?"

Jaylen shut her mouth, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

***

The next house was of the big and beautiful waterfront variety. It sat on stilts embedded directly into the sand. Plastic beach chairs lined the pristine white deck, some with empty beer bottles and cocktail glasses nestled into cupholders. A large sign out front displayed the name of the house in colorful letters. Jaylen cocked an eyebrow. 

"Really? She named her house _that_?"

"Pretty fuckin' stupid, right? Come on, let's bust in." 

They climbed the entrance steps onto the deck and Jaylen got to work unlocking a window while Tillman chugged a half empty beer that was lying around. 

"You are unaware that the front door is unlocked."

The duo looked up, searching for the source of the silky, ethereal voice. A figure came around the corner of the deck, her bright green floral shirt fully unbuttoned to reveal the mesh top underneath. Jaylen recognized her by the cloud of cosmos that surrounded her head in place of hair. 

Sutton Dreamy took a sip from her cocktail and pushed her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose. She spoke with much thought and little emotion. 

"Welcome to Margaritaville, Jaylen Hotdogfingers and Tillman Henderson."

***

"You have been having bad dreams lately."

Jaylen sat opposite Sutton at a white table in her living room. One wall was made entirely of glass, providing a view of the ocean. The other three walls were lined with analog clocks of all shapes and sizes, all resting steadily at five o'clock. Tillman was in her bedroom, hunting around for shoes. She'd given him permission to do so--why, Jaylen couldn't quite say. But before Jaylen could follow him she'd handed her a cocktail and asked her to sit. 

"You have been having bad dreams lately."

Sutton was staring at her. No, staring completely through her, her golden eyes piercing through Jaylen's defenses from behind those sunglasses. Jaylen nervously took a sip of her cocktail. Way too sweet for her taste--she was more of a beer or whiskey kind of girl. 

"You have been having bad dreams for a long time."

"... Yes. I have."

"That is why you are here."

Everything she said, a statement of fact. 

"Is that a problem?"  
  
"Only if you consider it one, Jaylen Hotdogfingers. Tell me about your time at this Sovereign Nation of Hawai'i so far."

Jaylen took another sip of her drink.

"I uh, I took a nap on the beach, went for a few boat rides, stole some shoes, and now I'm here."

Sutton nodded, taking a sip of her own drink. 

"Do you know about vibes, Jaylen Hotdogfingers?"

It was the first question she'd asked all day. Jaylen was taken aback.

"What? I mean, I guess? Like good and bad vibes, right?"

"Correct. Vibes are a rise and fall. An ebb and flow. Look--" And she gestured to the ocean that lay outside the ceiling-high window, "Watch the waves roll onto the shore. See how they move in and out, gently, gracefully, like a breath."

She took a big deep breath in and out, as if to demonstrate. Jaylen, in a sudden bout of self-consciousness, mirrored her. 

"Breath is the sustenance for the physical body. You breathe in oxygen, which is transported throughout your body via your bloodstream--your pulse, and you breathe out carbon dioxide into the air."  
  
Sutton took another deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. Her eyes never left Jaylen. 

"Breath can only nourish the body if you are breathing properly. If you hold your breath, you are not nourishing the body. Likewise, if you hyperventilate, you are not nourishing the body. 

"Vibes are like breath. They are the sustenance for the emotional body. You must let your vibes flow freely, both the good and bad ones. And you must let the good and bad vibes wash over you like a wave."

"... Uh-huh..."

"You do not understand me."  
  
"... No."

"Come with me."

Sutton Dreamy stood up and led Jaylen back outside onto the deck. She picked up a plastic chair and set it alongside a reclining beach chair, and indicated to Jaylen to lay in the recliner. 

"Wait here one moment."

She walked back inside the house. Jaylen sighed, hoping Tillman would be done with his shoe raid soon. How long had they been at Sutton's anyway? It felt like she'd been getting lectured for ages. She sat up and watched the ocean, turning over different breaking points of Sutton's metaphor in her head: how was she supposed to fix her vibe flow or whatever if nothing in Hawai'i flowed properly? Time was still, there were no tides, no sunrises or sets. She laid back in the chair, feeling the warm sun on her face, torso, and legs, as she took a big deep breath in, and slowly let it out between her teeth. 

***

Jaylen Hotdogfingers sat alone in the dark. She couldn't move. Couldn't see. Her head was pounding, eyes sore like she'd been crying for hours, days, weeks. Her arms were wrapped around her body, clawing at the kevlar sleeves that covered her forearms. 

Wait, that wasn't quite right.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the beige jacket that covered her body. The material was thick and sturdy. A reflective stripe stretched across the middle of the torso. She could barely make it out in the darkness, but stitched onto one arm was the word OLIVE, with an R sharpied at the end. And scribbled on the other arm, SCORPLER. 

Jaylen's eyes widened.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god why do I have this oh god it's all my fault that he's dead that they're all dead why do I have this why do I have this why did he take it off why didn't he wear it why do I have this I killed him I killed him this is my fault I killed him_

The ground opened up from under her and she watched her legs crumble into ash as the earth swallowed her. 

_You have been having bad dreams lately_.

Sutton Dreamy's words echoed all around. 

She was surrounded by blue flames and it was so hot and she was fucking burning again and she put a hand down on the ground and felt something odd an odd shape and she looked down and it was a skull it was Yazmin Mason's skull and she was surrounded by skulls it was Antonio Wallace's skull it was Dominic Marijuana's skull it was Murry Pony's skull and she was surrounded by skulls and she was on fire and it was so hot and where did that jacket go where the fuck is that jacket wasn't she just wearing that jacket and oh god she was burning and she checked her pulse and it was gone and she was burning and it was Sebastian Telephone's skull and it was Frasier Shmurmgle's skull and it was Workman Gloom's skull and she was burning and they were all burning and all the skulls turned to look at her and they asked her why and she couldn't breathe she couldn't think and they asked her why and she couldn't breathe she couldn't tell them that she never asked to live and coins started spilling out of their mouths and she was so hot she was burning 

_You are having a bad dream right now._

And she looked and there was the jacket and the jacket was on fire and how was that even possible and their voices surrounded her from all sides asking her why she did this to them and the Garages were there too and she could see them huddled see them talking about how she was a mistake how everything was a huge mistake how they hated her hated what she had become hated what they had make her become and whose fault was it whose fault was it whose fault was it that they were all dead that Moody Cookbook was dead that Elijah Bates was dead that Mclaughlin Scorpler was dead that Antonio Wallace was dead that Dominic Marijuana was dead that Murry Pony was dead that Sebastian Telephone was dead that Yazmin Mason was dead that Frasier Shmurmgle was dead that Workman Gloom was dead that Boyfriend Monreal was dead that Miguel Wheeler was dead that Jaylen Hotdogfingers was alive was dead was alive was dead was alive again the jacket was on fire it was on fucking fire she was on fire they were all on fire the jacket was never going to protect anyone again no one was safe no one was safe and everyone was dead every single player was dead Allison Abbott was dead and Mike Townsend was dead and Percival Wheeler was dead and she was alive and she was trapped she was trapped she was caught in a horrible revolving door she couldn't stop spinning couldn't stop spinning couldn't stop spinning

 _Release your breath, Jaylen Hotdogfingers_. 

Jaylen exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. 

Sun2 hung at the same height it had been all day. The sound of the waves filtered into Jaylen's ears as she stared at the sky, processing. Sutton Dreamy sat with perfect posture in the chair next to her. 

"Inhale."

Jaylen took a long, deep breath of salty air in through her nose. 

"Exhale."

She let go, releasing the air out through her mouth. 

"I left so I could bring you these."

She looked up. Sutton opened a matching pair of heart-shaped sunglasses and placed them on Jaylen's face.

"Oh, uh, thank… you?"

"They are customary in Margaritaville. I shall be giving Tillman Henderson a pair too."

Jaylen groaned quietly when she heard his name. She'd managed to forget that she'd come here with him. 

"Hey, Sutton?"  
  
"Yes."

"Why are you letting Tillman raid your shoe closet?"

"Because doing so gave me the opportunity to speak with you."

Jaylen blinked. 

"Why did you want that?"

"You have been having bad dreams lately."

"... So I've heard."

Sutton broke eye contact, looking off over the horizon. 

"Tillman Henderson will be done soon. We do not have much more time. In fact, I suspect that he has already finished and is waiting on us."

Jaylen scoffed, "Waiting? Tillman?"

"You thought I knew of your visit by precognition. Or by an alternate preternatural means."

"Did you... not?"

"I have a cell phone, Jaylen Hotdogfingers. I returned home from the cookout after Tillman Henderson texted me. He told me he found you asleep on the beach."

"He did _what_."

"You are feeling betrayed."

Once again, not a question. A statement of fact. And it was true, if the pit in Jaylen's gut or the shock behind her eyes were any indication. She rolled her eyes and sat up in the chair, waking up her legs so she could get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

"Do not leave." Sutton's voice held the same unaffected tone as always. "You are feeling betrayed. So I will tell you something that he would not want you to know. And then you may leave."

"I don't want to hear it."

Jaylen stood up, stormed down the entryway steps, and walked away from Margaritaville.

***

The motor hummed as the speedboat cruised back toward the first island. It was five o'clock on a Friday afternoon and Jaylen was alone. 

_Great. What now?_

She was where she'd started. Aimless, depressed, and left with all the time in the world to hate herself. 

She turned on her phone.

No service.

Figures.

Resisting the impulse to chuck it in the ocean, she turned her phone off and put it back in the waterproof compartment in the boat, making a mental note to herself to text Percy when she was back on shore. 

_Whatever. At least I'll get there soon._

As if her own thoughts had jinxed it, the motor sputtered out, and the boat slowed to a stop in the Pacific Ocean, drifting on the gentle waves. 

Jaylen pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and let out a hearty "FUCK!"

***

The contents of the speedboat were:

  * Two pairs of loafers
  * One ruined pair of Dloc Martens
  * Two Baltimore Crabs towels
  * One pair of heart-shaped sunglasses
  * One cell phone
  * One wallet
  * Two collapsible fishing poles
  * One fishing net
  * One tackle box
  * One first aid kit
  * One compass
  * Three empty beer cans
  * One incredibly wet and useless package of six signal flares
  * Four old receipts jammed into the waterproof compartment
  * One pissed off Jaylen Hotdogfingers



She cursed whoever owned this boat and thought to store _old receipts_ in the waterproof compartment but not signal flares so she could alert a rescue crew and not die in the middle of the ocean. 

_Whatever. Wouldn't be the first time I die a fucking stupid death._

Jaylen looked out at the horizon. Nothing but ocean in every direction. 

She sighed and looked at her collection of stuff. Whole bunch of useless crap. Not even an oar or anything. She wondered if she could swim to shore, but figured it wasn't worth ruining her phone. 

"Fuck it," She said, grabbing a fishing rod, "Might as well see what I can fish up."

***

It was five o'clock on a Friday afternoon and nothing was fucking biting. 

Jaylen had memorized the text of all four receipts and was beginning to attempt to fold them into origami. She'd so far successfully folded a square, a rectangle, and a triangle, before crumpling the receipt into a ball and throwing it at the floor of the boat. 

She reeled the fishing rod in. Nothing. She cast it back out and slumped back against the seat. 

_I really am going to die here, aren't I? All because that bastard fucking set me up. Piece of shit sees a girl having a nightmare on the beach and decides it's his business to send her to the dream reader. What kind of a fucking sick joke. He's probably losing his shit over this somewhere._

She glanced around the boat and grabbed the fishing net. Holding the rope tight in her left hand, she gripped the net in her right and wound up the best pitch she could muster on a boat, tossing the net out to sea. It unfurled as it plunged into the water, stretching out. She watched it sink before tugging it back on the rope, hoping it would pick up anything on its way back.

Empty. 

She crumpled it up and pitched it again. It fell in the water with a _plop_. She reeled it back in with the rope. 

Still empty. 

Jaylen was beginning to suspect that the ocean waters were somehow devoid of all life. She could see, hear, feel the universe mocking her as she grabbed the net and pitched it one last time. She waited a few excruciatingly long minutes as it sunk deeper into the water, wondering if maybe that was the secret, before she began to pull on the rope--

Was the net… always so heavy? 

Slowly, hand over hand, she pulled on the rope, using all her strength to drag whatever had gotten caught in the net back to the busted boat. 

Finally, about a few yards away from the boat, her haul rose above the water. 

"Lmao hey."

Jaylen let go of the rope, dropping a very tangled up Tillman Henderson back into the water. 

***

"Okay, tell me one more time, how the FUCK did you get here?"

Tillman looked up, towel around his neck, hands still fussing around with mechanisms inside of the motor. 

"Fucking hell Jay, I already told you, I swam here."

"We're miles away from the island! How the fuck did you swim here?"  
  
"With my arms and legs bitch!"

"Why the fuck did you swim here?"

"Because you stole the boat!"

"It was already stolen!"

"You fucking wrecked the motor too, look at this mess. Should be grateful I swam out here."

"Tillman, why are you here?"

"I already told you, because you fucking stole my boat!"

"It's not your boat! The boat was already stolen! We stole this boat!" 

"And then you had the gall to fucking break it."

Jaylen pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Tillman why the fuck did you take me to Sutton's."

"Uh, so we could get those," He gestured to a sopping wet tote bag filled with an assortment of shoes sitting on the floor of the boat.

"Be honest or I'm throwing you back off this boat."

"Hey!" He held his hands up, "Come on Hotdogfingers, you really want me to swim back to shore before I fix this motor?"

Jaylen scowled.

"That's what I thought Hotdogbitch, fuckin' try me see where it gets you." 

"Oh my fucking GOD Tillman you are LITERALLY INSUFFERABLE. I have been on these islands for gods know how long following you around on your stupid schemes, and all for what? Some fucking shoes and a shitty psych eval from a girl who only talks about dreams and vibes? What the fuck is your game?"

"My game?"

"I mean what's your motive? Is this a prank? Are you secretly filming me for all your internet followers or whatever? What the fuck are you doing here."

Her hand itched for a ball. A little voice in the back of her head told her that she'd bean this bastard a thousand times if she had to, and she was fresh out of the patience it took to be mortified at that thought. 

Tillman turned to face her, his voice low, expression sincere for the first time all day. 

"You really think all this is a prank, huh."

"I just. I don't know what else it could be, okay? Sutton told me everything. She told me you fucking set me up."

"Set you up. You think that was a fucking setup?"

"She told me it was!"

"What she _told_ you is that I texted her. God, Jay, your vibes are fucking rancid."

"I don't want to hear another fucking word about my vibes okay? I will push you off this boat I swear to god Til--"

"To answer your _question_ , Jaylen," Tillman held a hand up for dramatic effect, "I'm here because you ran off out of nowhere. I'm here because we were on a fucking adventure together. I'm here because I had to leave the stupid fucking cookout because I saw the fire and I freaked out, okay? So I fucking ran off and next thing I knew I found your sorry ass on the next beach over and I figured that if I was going to be a pathetic son of a bitch then at least I didn't have to be the only one."

Jaylen stared at him. 

"That's why you jumped into the water then," She whispered, "You saw it too."

"And to answer your other question, my fucking tattoo?" He pointed to his shoulder, to the flowers surrounded by blue flames, "Not that I'd expect you to know shit about it, but these are Black-Eyed Susans. The state flower of Maryland. Because the only reason I'm even alive is because the fucking Crabs wanted to incinerate me again."

He reached for the motor behind him and flipped a switch. It turned on with a hum. 

"Sutton's been helping me, okay? Excuse me for thinking she might help you too. Now come on, move over."

"What?"

Tillman nudged Jaylen to the side and nestled into the driver's seat. 

"We've got one more place to hit up."

" _What?_ "

"You know what? You don't have to come. You can just go mope and cry or whatever the fuck it is you're doing here. But _I_ have one more place to hit up. And if you want to do something cooler and sexier than moping and crying, you should come and steal some fucking shoes with me."

"... And this is still part of your vengeance or whatever, right?"

Tillman cranked up the speed on the boat. "Sort of, yeah. The real people I'd wanna get all left without me. So this is who I've got left, okay? You still coming or what?"

"... Yeah. I'm still coming."

A weight that neither of them knew existed suddenly dissipated off of their shoulders, as Tillman's face shifted back into that familiar grin. 

"Alright, well then let's get this party started!"

He pulled an electronic device about the size of a blaseball out of his pocket and stuck it on the dashboard. Jaylen squinted at it, trying to figure out what it was while Tillman hit a button on his phone and--

"I'm a Blarbie girl, in a Blarbie wo-orld~"

A waterproof speaker. Of course.

Jaylen took a deep breath, and once again, let out a hearty "FUCK!"

***

"So do all of your tattoos have meanings?"

After what felt like hours of listening to a foreign song Tillman said was called "Leekspin," the speaker battery had finally died. The island was in sight now, and Tillman was steering them around it to try and get as close to their destination as possible. 

"Oh yeah. This one," He pointed to the word "Pog" on his wrist, "This one means pog."

Jaylen punched him in the arm. 

"Ouch! Jeez Jay, is this how you treat everyone?"

"So why the one meaningful tattoo then? What's the deal with that?"

"Oh my god are you still thinking about that?"

"Like did you suddenly have an epiphany and dedicate yourself to a life without irony?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Can't a man have his privacy? Look, we're almost there."

"Just tell me one thing, okay?" She pleaded, something in her gut tugging at her, telling her that she absolutely needed to know everything possible about this, "Why now? Why all the stupid tattoos until now?"

"If I tell you this, will you _promise_ to stop asking me stupid questions?"

"No."

"You're fucking impossible, Hotdogfingers," Tillman took the sunglasses off her face and put them on his own, "Look, Dreamy'd said something about how I need to 'make a permanent mark on my destiny' or whatever, I don't know I wasn't really listening, it was just the first permanent thing I could think of."

Somewhat satisfied, Jaylen reached into the waterproof compartment and grabbed her phone, turning it on again. 

"Oh what, I'm not interesting enough for you?" Tillman said, texting someone with his left hand as he drove the boat. 

She ignored him and waited for her phone to connect to the cell network. The missed texts rolled in, from every member of her team. 

"hey ik we havent talked much but everyones seriously worried can you tell us where u r"

"If it was something any of us did, could you please just tell us? We just want to make your stay in San Francisco as lovely as possible. Please come back."

"ive already told you this but if u break my gfs heart ill kill u. come back 🗡 " 

"Good morrow, Lady Hotdogfingers. Where art thou? I bid you sendeth a text message or perchance a FlaceTime request. Anon."

"jay baby please just answer"

That last one was from Percival and it absolutely broke her heart to read. 

"I'll be back soon babe. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Love you."

As soon as she'd sent that and slipped her phone into the compartment, it rang. She pulled it back out to see a FlaceTime request from Percy. Before she could even decide what to do about it, Tillman grabbed the phone and hit Accept.

"Hey Perce it's ya boy!" He yelled over the motor. 

"Jay where--Tillman?" The fear in her accented voice turned into anger, pure rage, at the sight of him, "Tillman where the fuck is Jaylen?" 

"I'm right here, give me my fucking phone back," Jaylen reached over, taking the phone back and getting a good look at Percival on camera. Her eyes were puffy behind her bangs, and she squealed when Jaylen's face showed up on camera. 

"Jay! My sweeting! Oh Jaylen I am so glad you're safe! Where are you? What's that noise? And why, pray tell, is Tillman there?"

"I uh, I can't really answer that last one, but I'm on a boat. I've got a few more stops to make and then I'll," Her voice wavered, "I'll come back, okay? I promise I'm coming back."

"Oh my god, oh thank god okay," And Percy breathed the biggest sigh of relief Jaylen had ever seen. She'd never seen Percy like this--she was normally so calm, so unmoved by events passing by. Here, on this FaceTime call, she was… desperate. Scared. The woman who regularly told stories of fending off entire armies, toppling kingdoms, slaying dragons was scared. 

_Fuck. All I ever do is hurt everyone._

Tillman popped up on the screen behind Jaylen, "Perce, you fuckin' baby, she's fine."

Percy's voice lowered, "Tillman Henderson if you hurt a single hair on her beautiful little head--"

"He's harmless hon," Jaylen cut her off, "Annoying as hell, but harmless. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"... Okay. I understand. Be well, my love. We shall be reunited soon, as you promised." Percy blinked a few tears away and blew a kiss at the camera. Jaylen mimed catching it. 

"Love you Perce. See you soon."

The call ended. 

Jaylen stared at the screen, cradling her phone in both hands. Her eyes were dry--she didn't have it in her to cry.

"Lmao you sure know how to pick em Jay," Tillman said, turning his phone to show her a group chat including Percy, Parker Meng, Don Mitchell, and Alexander Horne, where the latter three were rapid-fire sending a mixture of threats and sword emojis. 

Jaylen snorted. "I didn't even know Horne owned a phone."

"Come on, this isn't funny, they're being mean," Tillman whined, "Call them off."

"Good luck with them. Try not to die!"

Jaylen relaxed into her seat, the part of her wanting to die for having put her friends through this somewhat quelled. Against all odds, they still cared. 

***

The final house on their heist was a quaint cottage in a little neighborhood. This one didn't sit on stilts like the other two, but was raised about a foot above the ground by a stone foundation. Beautiful plants and flowers grew, untamed, throughout the area. A group of kids no older than ten ran by, tossing a ball back and forth. 

Tillman had been seething in quiet rage the whole way there. Jaylen had felt bad at some point and asked Percy to call the rest of them off, but she said that they were out of her hands. Tillman was, of course, too proud to block their numbers or turn off his phone, instead opting to reply with nonsense graphics that he called "deep fried memes." 

"This the house?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"So, what are we doing? Breaking into another window?"

"Something like that."

Tillman reached into his pocket. Jaylen was starting to wonder just how much stuff he was able to store in his two pockets. Before she could react, he chucked the ball into one of the front windows of the house. The glass shattered, leaving a ball-sized hole through it. As quickly as he'd thrown the ball, Tillman dove into the brush. 

" _Tillman!_ " Jaylen hissed through her teeth. He waved his arms, motioning for Jaylen to get in the brush with him, but she froze and the front door opened and a short woman in her early 30s walked out. She had tan skin and long black hair that flowed past her shoulders. Her light blue t-shirt sported the palm tree logo of the Fridays. 

"Excuse me, miss?" She called out, walking down the front steps to greet her, "Did you see the kids that broke my--Oh. You're..."

She froze, staring at Jaylen's face. Jaylen grabbed the sides of her hood, trying to pull it tighter around her head, but the woman gently brushed her hands away and pushed the hood clean off of her head. 

"Jaylen Hotdogfingers?" She looked deep into Jaylen's eyes, her own eyes starting to well up with tears. 

"Uh, yeah, that's me, um..."

But before she could come up with an excuse for why she was here, the woman wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. Jaylen could hear her choking back sobs.

"Thank you… Thank you, Jaylen Hotdogfingers… Thank you for bringing York back safe…"

***

The woman brought Jaylen inside her house and sat her on an overstuffed couch while she went off to put on a kettle for a cup of tea. 

Jaylen looked around the living room. It was… homey. There really was no other way to put it. The couch and chairs were covered in brightly patterned decorative pillows. Atop the coffee table was a leafy green plant in a large pot that seemed to have been painted by a child. Built into one of the cream-colored walls was a set of shelves displaying trophies and awards of all shapes and sizes. And lining the rest of the walls were framed photos of her host smiling alongside another young woman and a boy who looked no older than eight. 

_Nagomi McDaniel and York Silk… So that means…_

Mrs. Silk returned, carrying an adorable little teacup filled to the brim with tea and placing it onto a coaster in front of Jaylen. Jaylen never knew Nagomi very well, but based on first impressions, her wife seemed to be the opposite of her in every way. Nagomi was cold, quiet, brusque, Mrs. Silk warm, inviting, kind. She sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the coffee table. Jaylen stared at her in disbelief, not quite understanding what she'd done to deserve this treatment.

"I'm so sorry for inviting you in like this, I'm sure this must be awkward for you," She started.

 _It is._

"Oh no no no, it's not a problem. Thank you for the tea."

"Please, it's really the least I could do to repay you for everything you've done."

_All I've ever done is kill people._

"I--I'm sorry, I'm not sure that I know what you mean."

"We all watched it. The battle against the PODS. Against..." She wiped a tear from her eye. Jaylen could sense what she was remembering: York Silk, suddenly sixteen, in that horrible red uniform, his eyes a matching shade of red, a menacing grin on his face as he wielded the Vibe Check. 

It was a game Jaylen preferred not to think about. She was the only person who'd had to battle the PODS twice. Both times were terrifying--the first because she had no idea what was going on, the second because not only was she dead, she had the fate of the entire league on her shoulders. She shuddered, remembering the feeling of flickering from Hall Stars to PODS, of seeing the color of Axel Trololol's paint job change between red and blue as she swapped back and forth with him, pitching her heart out on the Hall Stars and trying her best to sabotage the PODS. 

It was the Top of the 8th when she'd had the idea to force the weather to bend to her will. It had been reacting to her the entire battle, the Feedback ringing out at her presence, letting her switch to the team she thought she needed to be on. She had no idea what would happen to the Hall Stars after the battle, but… well, if it looked like they were about to lose, she figured she could swap back and save Axel at the very least. She swapped for the last time onto the PODS, and refused to allow the Feedback to ring again. Axel flashed his high beams at her during the Top of the 9th. She shook her head. The Hall Stars were going to win, and whatever victory they got, she had no right to. Not after everything she'd done while alive. 

She was exhausted and dripping with sweat by the end. She'd barely had time to hear "I hope you get to rest" echo from The Microphone before she found herself encased in a giant peanut shell en route to crash land in San Francisco. 

_Some rest_ , she'd thought to herself as a sword began poking its way into the shell. _Well. It's not like I deserve it anyway._

"You saved him."

Mrs. Silk's words snapped Jaylen back into focus. 

"What."

"You saved York, Jaylen. You saved my son. He was trapped in that shell for a year, and then taken away from all of us for another year. And you brought him back," She grabbed Jaylen's hands from across the coffee table, "Older, but safe, and still my little dork. And I can never repay you enough for that."

_I didn't do it to save anyone._

"I… I really didn't do much."

"Oh, you're so much like Gomi. She's always downplaying herself to me."

Mrs. Silk trailed off, her eyes misty. She'd lost both her wife and her son, and one only narrowly escaped having to join the PODS. A part of Jaylen wondered how hard it must be to be related to two of the best players in the league, knowing how the league chewed people up and spat them out again. 

"She'd want to thank you too, you know. She's out right now, but she'd probably say something like 'Thanks for killing that fucking bastard,'" She laughed, the swears out of place in her gentle voice. She rambled on about how Nagomi seemed angrier ever since the Mother Crab snipped her head off, and how they were all thankful that Our Lady of Perpetual Friday was able to restore it, and Jaylen zoned out a bit. 

_I wasn't trying to save anyone. I was just trying to kill a god._

The distinction was important to her, for reasons she couldn't quite pin down. Something about how gods were bad and how no one owed her anything for doing it because really it was her who owed everyone everything, after all that she'd done, after she'd been dragged out of the ground and given the gift of life in exchange for ten others, who was she to accept any thanks for doing something she never even intended to do?

"Jaylen? Are you still there?"

Jaylen blinked a few times. 

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't worry about it, I know I have a tendency to talk. I just. Wanted to say thank you."

_I didn't do anything worth thanking._

"R-really, it's nothing."

"Jaylen, you saved the world. That's something to be proud of."

_I didn't even do it on purpose. I just happened to be there._

"Uh, thank you, but it was the Hall Stars who did most of the work. I just threw the ball. It's... what every pitcher has to do."

_If I was a better pitcher I would've taken them out that first time._

"Jaylen, you worked hard. We all saw it. You fought and you won."

_I don't deserve this._

"You freed all of the PODS," Mrs. Silk continued, "It was only because of you that the Hall Stars won. Everyone could see it."

_I don't deserve this._

"So please, if there's anything at all I can do for you."

_I don't deserve this._

Jaylen stood up. 

"Ma'am, this is all really kind, but. I killed people. I was brought back from the dead, killed ten players to earn my right to stay, and died again anyway."

Mrs. Silk stood up too, slowly, gracefully. 

"You understand that no one sees that as your fault, right? Well, maybe a few do," She corrected herself, "But. You're so much more than that. To so many people." 

"I um. I'm sorry. I better be on my way." 

Jaylen headed for the door. Mrs. Silk made no effort to follow, just watched her go from the living room.

"I'm sorry that you've been unable to put your past to rest."

***

"Hey, Jay, thanks for providing such a great distraction!" Tillman grinned, holding up a pair of cleats and a crab arm that was roughly the same size as a human arm. "Look what I got!"

"Tillman Henderson you put that crab arm back right now or so help me I will send you back to the Hall right now, don't fucking try me."

"Jeez, someone's in a bad mood. What's wrong? Milf reject you?"

Jaylen grabbed the arm, whacked TIllman on the head with it, and ran back down the street to leave the arm on Mrs. Silk's porch before the two left the neighborhood. 

"Come on. We've got one more stop."

"What? Jay, that was the last house."  
  
"One more stop."

***

Buzzing sounds filled the brightly lit room Jaylen and Tillman found themselves in. The walls were teal and covered in all sorts of framed graphics--drawings of animals, plants, vehicles. Jaylen felt her stomach flip at the sight of religious iconography on one: graphics depicting the glory of The Shelled One, but was somewhat calmed at the sight of the drawing next to it: an artist's rendering of The Monitor eating the nut. 

_Strange ways people cope_. 

She knew she shouldn't judge others for this. Not with what she was about to do. She'd slipped the receptionist a twenty, hopeful that it would be enough for them not to instantly call the tabloids. 

"Damn Jay," Tillman said, glancing around the shop, "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Figured that I should make a permanent mark on my destiny or whatever."

"Fucking stupid ass reason to be here."

"Jaylen?"

A gruff, muscular man covered in tattoos beckoned to the back of the shop. The duo followed, Jaylen sitting down on a comfortable adjustable chair while the man took his place in a rolling stool. Tillman stood around awkwardly, glancing over at the toolbox lined with bottles of ink.

"So what is it that you want again? Some text, right?"

"Yeah. Can I have a piece of paper? I'll write it down."

He reached into a drawer of the toolbox and procured a clipboard. Jaylen jotted something down. Tillman peeked over her shoulder.

"You're crazy."

"Yeah. I am."

"This is the stupidest idea I've ever heard of. I thought you wanted to forget about all of that."

"It's better than your Pog tattoo."

"Is not! My tattoo's poggers."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with the lady on this one," The tattoo artist butted in, glancing at the clipboard. "But uh, you're sure about all that? That's a lot of text to get done in one sitting. It's on a pretty painful spot too, not a great spot for beginners."

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Alright! Well! Here's the liability paperwork for you to sign while I make the stencil. You just get comfortable."

He swapped clipboards with her and slipped into a back office. Tillman sat down in the stool and looked at Jaylen like she had two heads. 

"You're crazy."

"Yeah! I am!"

"This is social suicide."

"Like you're one to talk."

"I am one to talk! You're making enemies with every other team by doing this. What happens when you flicker again? What if you flicker to the Moist Talkers? To the Tigers? You think they're gonna like that shit?"

"I don't care. You shouldn't either."

"Yeah, well I do, okay? I just don't want to watch you make the same mistakes I have. You have friends and you deserve them and doing this will only push them away."

Jaylen took a deep breath in through her nose, holding it for a moment before pushing the air out between her teeth. 

"Running away didn't push them away. This won't either. They understand. And even if they don't..."

Tillman spun around in the stool, rotating so he didn't have to look at her. Jaylen rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. Look, just trust me, okay."

"I'm not going to stop you, Jay. It's your choice. I just wish that I'd had someone to stop me for some of these."

"So you do have regrets!"

"Shut up, I do not!" He spun around more in the stool, but he was smiling now. 

"Besides, you're not allowed to talk me out of this. Who else is going to laugh at me and call me a wimp during the whole thing?"

"I can't believe you're arguing the 'Entertain Tillman' angle."

"It's really the only angle you've ever listened to."

And before he could counter that, the tattoo artist returned with a piece of paper in his hand. Jaylen quickly skimmed and signed the liability waivers and passed the clipboard back to him.

"Alright, lean back in the chair."

Jaylen did as she was told, her sports bra peeking out as she hiked the bottom few inches of her cropped hoodie up. She felt the anticipation bubbling up in her gut, that unique mixture of excitement and nervousness making her head pound as the artist pressed the paper on the right side of her ribcage, slowly peeling it back to leave behind the purple stencil he would trace. She checked her pulse. Still there. 

"Go look in the mirror, make sure it's exactly how you want it. There's no take backs once I start."

Jaylen stood up and walked to the full length mirror on the opposite side of the room, eyeing the text on the side of her body. She turned to face Tillman.

"Well? What do you think?"  
  
"I think it looks sick as hell. You ready, Hotdogfingers?"

She gulped, looking back at the mirror, lightly tracing the stencil with her finger.  
  
"Yeah. I'm ready."

***

The flight back to San Francisco was quiet, with little turbulence. Jaylen had used the last of her dwindling phone battery to text Percy her flight info--departing Hawai'i at 5pm on Friday, arriving in San Francisco at 11:24am on Wednesday. She and Tillman parted ways at the airport. The Thieves were headed back to Charleston, so he'd ran off with the bag of shoes to meet up with them. 

"Wait, Tillman!" She'd called after him. 

He'd turned around, jogging backwards through the airport. 

"Smell ya later, Hotdogfingers!"

Jaylen played the scene over in her mind. Fucking bastard. Wouldn't even give her a chance to thank him. 

_Whatever. He got to watch me get stabbed by a needle thousands of times. That better be enough thanks._

A part of her wondered why he was catching a flight. Didn't the Shoe Thieves have an airship they took everywhere? Whatever, it was none of her business. Probably all a part of his anti-social act.

She ran a hand down to her ribcage and winced. It hurt like hell. The artist wasn't kidding when he said it was one of the most painful spots. She saw white when he went over her bones. 

Jaylen leaned back in her seat, exhaustion setting in. She couldn't wait to be home.

She slept dreamlessly for the rest of the flight.

***

"Jaylen! Oh Jaylen my sweeting! My beloved!" 

Percival Wheeler's ponytail streamed behind her as she ran across the airport to pull Jaylen into a bear hug. 

"Oof, ouch, Percy, I love you, please let go," Jaylen could barely get words out through the pain radiating from her ribcage as Percy squeezed. 

"I was so worried! He did not harm you, did he?" Percy moved her arms up to Jaylen's shoulders, "Everyone has agreed to kill him if he did, no questions asked."

"No, no killing. I'm okay. I… I missed you." And she pulled Percy into a kiss, a longer one than she typically felt she could afford in public.

After what felt like forever, they let go of each other, and Percy gave Jaylen a onceover. Jaylen figured she must look like a wreck, between her DIY crop top and shorts, her ruined Dlocs, and her hair that she hadn't washed in ages. 

"Your tattoo," Percy spoke quietly, squatting down to give it a better look, mouthing the names as she read them:

MOODY COOKBOOK

ELIJAH BATES

MCLAUGHLIN SCORPLER

ANTONIO WALLACE

DOMINIC MARIJUANA

MURRAY PONY

SEBASTIAN TELEPHONE

YAZMIN MASON

FRASIER SHMURMGLE

WORKMAN GLOOM

BOYFRIEND MONREAL

MIGUEL WHEELER

Jaylen winced, waiting for her reaction, waiting for her to dump her, scream at her, kick her off the team. 

"It's beautiful."

"... Thank you."

"I hope it helps you carry onward and put your past at rest. Come, let us go home."

Jaylen took Percy's hand in hers as they left the airport.

***

Jaylen turned the light on in her bedroom and slumped down on her bed. She'd been gone for three days. The team had explained away her absence as due to illness, so she wasn't required back on the field until tomorrow. She groaned, thinking about how hard it was going to be to pitch if her ribs still hurt this much tomorrow. 

She sighed and tore off her clothes, throwing them on the floor as she looked for a pair of pajamas to slip on and--

Wait a second.

Her eyes darted around the room, glancing over the piles of laundry and dozens of empty cups littered the space. 

Where the fuck were all her shoes?

The puzzle pieces clicked together in her head. Why Tillman spent so long with her. Why the Shoe Thieves were nowhere to be seen. Why he didn't catch a ride on the airship. 

_Tillman Henderson you absolute rat bastard._

**Author's Note:**

> wow is this long. thought this fic was going to be way more serious and depressing than it turned out to be but hey that's blaseball. title once again from mariana's trench. thank u to ravi for editing even though i refused to title it wasting away again in margaritaville. thank u to tam, cee, and the chicago firefighters for reading every single draft of this
> 
> hope u liked it, lmk ur thoughts, i am going to go sleep for 1000 years xoxo elliot


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